To Kill Rasputin: The Life and Death of Grigori Rasputin (Revealing History)

by Cook, Andrew

FINGER OF SUSPICION

  Prince Felix Yusupov was interviewed by General Popov of the Gendarmerie. The date on his statement is Sunday 18 December, and it seems likely that this interview took place early, because by the end of the morning Yusupov, by his own account, had moved out of the palace where he had been ordered to remain.

  Yusupov began by explaining how he and Rasputin had become acquainted:

  I had first met Grigori Efimovich Rasputin about 5 years ago at Mournya Evgenievna Golovina’s house. During the following years I saw him a couple of times at Golovina’s house. This year, 1916, I saw him in November also at Golovina’s house and he made a better impression on me than during previous years. I suffer from chest pains and my medical treatment does not help substantially. I discussed this with Mournya Evgenievna Golovina and she advised me to go to Rasputin’s apartment and talk to him about it. He had cured many people and could be of help to me. At the end of November I went to Rasputin accompanied by Golovina. Rasputin did his passes and I thought that my condition had improved slightly. During my last visits Rasputin told me ‘we will cure you completely, but we still need to go to the gypsies, you’ll see good women there and your illness will completely disappear’. These words made an unpleasant impression on me.

  Questioning then apparently turned to Rasputin’s alleged visit to the Yusupov Palace on the night of Friday 16 December. Having had the best part of a day to concoct and perfect his version of events, Yusupov was clearly at pains to explain the circumstances surrounding the rumours:

  Around 10th December Rasputin telephoned me and suggested we went to the gypsies. I refused and gave him an excuse that I had to sit exams the next day. During our meetings Rasputin initiated conversations about my wife, where and how we live. He said that he wished to meet my wife. I evasively responded that a meeting could be arranged when she returned from the Crimea. However, I did not want to introduce Rasputin to my household.

  Having emphasised his reluctance to invite Rasputin to the Yusupov Palace, Yusupov was now pressed to give his account of the night of 16 December:

  I’d had the rooms of my Moika house refurbished and Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich suggested I have a house warming party. It was decided to invite Vladimir Mitrofanovich Purishkevich, several officers and society ladies to the party. Given the obvious reasons I do not want to name the ladies who attended the party. I also do not want to name the officers who were at the party because this may create rumours and damage the careers of these innocent people. The party was planned for 16th December. In order not to embarrass the ladies, I ordered my servants to serve the tea and dinner in advance and not to enter the room later. The majority of guests were supposed to arrive not at the front entrance of the building at 94 Moika, but to the side entrance at number 92. I kept the key to that entrance on me. I arrived home at around 10.00p.m. I think that I entered the apartment through the side entrance at number 92, although I can’t be certain. Everything was ready for the guests in the dining room and the study. Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich arrived at around 11.30p.m.; he came through the front entrance, then the other guests started to arrive as well. All the ladies without doubt arrived at the side entrance at number 92. I can’t remember where the male guests arrived. The guests had tea, played the grand piano, danced and had dinner.

  Yusupov continued to maintain that Rasputin had never visited the palace that night, although he had indeed spoken with him:

  At around 12.30-1.00am I went upstairs to my study in the same building and heard a telephone ring. It turned out to be Rasputin who invited me to visit the gypsies with him. I replied that I was not able to come because I had guests. Rasputin suggested that I should leave the guests and come with him, but I refused. I asked Rasputin where he was calling from, but he refused to answer. I asked Rasputin this question because on the telephone I could hear voices, some noise and even female squeals, therefore I came to the conclusion that Rasputin was not calling from home, but from a restaurant or from the gypsies. Following that conversation I went downstairs into the dining room and said to my guests; ‘Gentlemen, Rasputin spoke to me a minute ago and invited me to the gypsies’. The guests cracked jokes and laughed, suggesting that we go, but everyone stayed and continued with the dinner.

  Popov was clearly already familiar with the shot-dog story, which he must have heard anecdotally, and did not accept it as uncritically as Balk and the Minister of Justice, Makarov, had done. The Prince was asked to be specific. Who had fired the shot? Where and when? Yusupov said:

  At around 2.30-3.00a.m. two ladies decided to go home and left through the side entrance. The Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich left with them. When they went out I heard a gunshot in the yard, so I rang the bell and ordered one of the attendants to go out and have a look. The servant returned and reported that everyone had left and there was nothing in the yard. Then I went out to the yard myself and noticed a dead dog by the fence. When I came out to the yard a person hurriedly walked away from the dog. He was wearing a grey shirt, similar to a military uniform, he was slim, but I could not see him well because it was dark. When I came back to the apartment I ordered the servant to remove the dog from the yard. I called the Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich straight away and told him about the dead dog. His Imperial Highness told me that he had killed the dog. I remonstrated that there had been no need to do that, as it had created a noise and the police would be coming and the fact that I had a party with ladies in attendance would become public. Dmitri Pavlovich replied that it was nothing wrong and there was no need to worry. I then ordered to call a policeman from the street and told him that if there were to be enquiries about the gunshots, he was to say that my friend had killed a dog.1

  Yusupov’s account of the murder night is a mixture of truth, fabrication and omission that others later contradicted with different truths and more fabrication and omission. Whilst not central to the account of the night’s events, some have questioned the basis on which Yusupov claimed he initially re-established contact with Rasputin, namely to seek relief from chest pains. Although his story was corroborated by family friend Mounya Golovina when questioned by Popov, Rasputin’s family and associates have subsequently denied this. Both his daughter Maria and his secretary Aron Simanovich have maintained that Yusupov sought Rasputin’s help to cure him of his homosexual desires.2

  By Sunday lunchtime he had been driven to the Sergei Palace on the Nevski Prospekt to stay in a room provided by Dmitri Pavlovich. At least Dmitri, as a Grand Duke, would not be bothered by policemen. And a move would also take the heat off Yusupov’s parents-in-law and especially his wife’s young brothers. As Romanovs, the family had nothing to fear from the law, but Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich and Grand Duchess Xenia would prefer to avoid incurring the Tsar’s displeasure by harbouring a suspect.

  The Sergei Palace was an imposing stone building on a prominent corner of the Nevski Prospekt, Petrograd’s busiest thoroughfare. It overlooked the Anichkov Bridge over the Fontanka Canal, and was opposite the palace of Maria Fyodorovna, the Tsar’s mother. Above its lower floors there rose a tall piano nobile or ballroom floor adorned on the outside with pilasters. The upper levels were occupied by the Anglo-Russian Hospital, one of many such charitably funded hospitals founded to deal with casualties brought back from the front. Dmitri Pavlovich had donated the space and a 200-bed hospital was installed in 1915. Its staff and equipment were a ‘gift from Britain to Russia’, having been funded by public subscription and promoted by the Foreign Office and the British Red Cross. Lady Muriel Paget and Lady Sybil Grey ran the hospital with the help of British doctors and nurses and a small complement of Russian Red Cross officials. Dmitri was glad to do something to help – noblesse oblige, and all that – and besides, his butler had hanged himself in the building so he did not want to be rattling around, when on leave, in a great shell of a place that had felt spooky ever since. The hospital had moved in during the winter of 1915, when plumbing and baths, sadly lacking before, had been installed. F
amily retainers (‘swarms’ of them, according to the exasperated Lady Grey) continued to occupy the attics. Dmitri’s apartment was accessible by a door from the main entrance hall and by a concealed staircase which led up to the doctor’s rooms.

  As a Romanov, Dmitri could be constrained only by the Tsar himself. Yusupov must have felt relatively safe. The two young men had plenty to discuss, not least the detention in her own home of Madame Marianna Derfelden, the stepdaughter of Dmitri’s father. She was one of their own circle and, it was said, a former lover of Dmitri’s. Somebody must have told the investigators that she had been among the women present at the Yusupov Palace. She loathed Rasputin’s influence over the Tsarina but was the sister of one of his leading supporters. Her detention, as it turned out, did not cause her great hardship. Her mother wrote later:

  When we arrived at 8 Theatre Square, where Marianna lived, we were stopped by two soldiers who let us through only after taking down our names. All the highest society was at Marianna’s! Some ladies she barely knew arrived in order to express their sympathy with her. Officers came up to kiss her hand.3

  Another hot topic was Dmitri’s telephone call to the Tsarina before the party the previous Saturday night. He had heard that she suspected him of involvement, and had rung Tsarskoye Selo and asked to see her. She refused. This was serious, for the imperial family had taken Dmitri under their wing when he was a boy, treated him fairly and knew him well. For the Tsarina to snub him like this, she must be sure that he and Felix Yusupov had something to hide.

  And worse was to come. At lunchtime, a telephone call from an aide-de-camp at Tsarskoye Selo informed Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich that the Tsarina ordered him to remain at the Sergei Palace under house arrest. He was furious, knowing that only the Tsar could legally issue such an order. The Tsarina had married into the royal family over twenty years ago and had never fitted in; the Romanovs, Yusupovs, Obolenskis and Galitzines – the aristocrats of Russia – had never liked her; she was prissy and boring and dull. But Tsar Nicholas, everyone knew, did exactly what the Tsarina told him to, and he was an autocrat who could do anything. Dmitri accepted her command. What else could he do?

  Visitors started to appear. And among them all afternoon – indeed for days afterwards – the British Ambassador’s friend Nikolai Mikhailovich made a trying companion.

  The Grand Duke Nikolai Mikhailovich came several times a day, or telephoned the wildest, most improbable news, couched in such mysterious terms that we never really knew what it was all about. He always tried to bluff us that he knew all about the conspiracy, hoping by this means to worm our secret out of us.

  He took an active part in the search for Rasputin’s body. He warned us that the Tsarina, convinced of our complicity in Rasputin’s assassination, demanded that we be shot at once…4

  The Grand Duke Nikolai Mikhailovich was known to loathe Rasputin. But he was not usually so curious, and had probably been asked to probe as deeply as possible. Sir George Buchanan wanted to know what had really happened because he had his own suspicions. Perhaps he also wanted to know whether Yusupov and Dmitri, a couple of social butterflies, were capable of sticking to their story. Because by now, London had heard something.

  General Popov and Lt-Col. Popel got into their stride. Having yesterday had time to interview only Yusupov’s servants at the Moika, and Mounya Golovina, they now descended on several locations in swift succession. Popov interviewed Maria and Varvara Rasputina, and Katya their maid, at 64 Gorokhovaya Street. Popel took statements from Anya, the niece, and the building attendants at 64, and then headed uptown for the Moika, where there were police witnesses. After that he went out to the Islands and saw the bridge guard.

  Rasputin’s daughters, having identified their father’s footwear, were desperately worried and willing to tell Popov anything they knew that might help. Maria, the elder girl, admitted that her father had been expecting to see Yusupov ‘the Little One’ late on Friday night, and that Mounya Golovina had seemed concerned yesterday after she had spoken to the Prince on the telephone.

  I saw Prince Yusupov at our apartment only once – about five or six days ago, that must be around the 12th December this year. The prince has the following distinctive features: taller than average, skinny, pale, long face, large circles under the eyes, brown hair. I can’t remember whether he has a moustache or a beard.

  Varvara, who was sixteen, had nothing much to add. Popel’s interrogation of Anya, the niece, confirmed what Maria had said but brought another visitor into the frame.

  Around 1.00p.m. on 16th December my uncle Grigori Efimovich returned from the bath house and went to sleep. During that day my uncle had many visitors who had also visited him previously. Around 10.00p.m. a plump blonde called Sister Maria arrived, she was called Sister although she wasn’t a nurse. Shortly after midnight my uncle lay down on the bed fully clothed. Katya who lives with us and myself came up to my uncle and asked him why he did not get undressed. My uncle replied that ‘today I am going to visit the Little One.’ Later I went to sleep and did not hear when my uncle left or who with.

  Katya the maid confirmed what Rasputin had said, as he rested ‘fully clothed and in his boots’.

  When I asked him who [he would be visiting] Rasputin replied ‘the Little One, he is going to pick me up’ and ordered me to go to bed... I went into the kitchen but did not fall asleep. Rasputin had put on a silk shirt embroidered with basilisks but could not do up all the collar buttons. He came into the kitchen and I did up his buttons. At the time somebody rang the back entrance bell. Rasputin opened the door himself. The visitor asked ‘Is nobody here?’ Grigori Efimovich replied ‘Nobody and the children are asleep. Come in dear’. Both of them went through the kitchen past me into the rooms. At the time I was behind the kitchen partition for the maid. I moved aside the curtain and saw that the visitor was the Little One, known to me as Irina Alexandrovna’s husband… I recognised his face. I can’t tell whether the collar of his coat was up. A short time later Rasputin went through the kitchen. I was in bed by that time. Grigori Efimovich said in a low voice that he had locked the front door and was going to leave by the back entrance, and that he would come back through that entrance, and ordered me to lock the door behind him. I replied ‘Yes’ to all these orders while still in bed and locked the door when they went out. I have not seen Grigori Efimovich since.5

  Mounya Golovina had told her that Yusupov denied having been there, but when Katya heard this she had insisted that she was not mistaken; the person she saw had been ‘the Little One’.

  After that Maria Evgenievna Golovina has not visited us. The distinctive features of the Little One are the following: quite tall, slim, slim face, straight nose, dark hair, no moustache and no beard, blue circles under the eyes.

  Popel then questioned the dvornik, the concierge, who would have been in the pay of the Okhrana. She was a woman of twenty-eight, illiterate, and held no great opinion of the tenant of number 64.

  On 16th December I saw Grigori Rasputin only once, at about 3.00p.m. when he returned from the bath-house, when he went through the back entrance. He had not received any visitors in the morning because he was very drunk.6 Even when he came back from the bath-house he was not quite sober. He had not more than seven visitors between 3.00p.m. and midnight; they used to visit him previously as well. Only at around 10.00p.m. a lady I had never seen before arrived and stayed with Rasputin until 11.00p.m., when she left. The lady had the following distinctive features: blonde hair, about 25 years of age, medium height, medium build. She was wearing a flared dark brown coat and same colour, only slightly darker, boots and a black hat with no veil. When I locked the front door at midnight Grigori Rasputin was home. I don’t know when he left the house or with whom because he left through the back door.7

  The yardkeeper who had been on duty at the apartment block that night said he had been outside, near the gates, when

  …soon after 1.00a.m. a large car arrived at the gates. The car was khaki i
n colour, had a canvas top and safety glass windows; there was a spare tyre on the back. The car had come from the Fontanka direction. It reversed and stopped. A person unknown to me came out of the car and came straight to the wicket gate. I asked who he was visiting and he responded ‘Rasputin.’ I opened the gate and told him ‘Here is the front door’ but the stranger said he was going to go in through the back entrance. He swiftly went straight to that entrance. It was obvious that the person was familiar with the layout of the building. About 30 minutes later the stranger came out with G.E. Rasputin. They got into the car and drove off towards Fontanka… The driver looked slightly older than the stranger, about 35 years of age, had black medium-sized moustache, no beard, was wearing a black coat with lambskin collar, fur hat and red long gloves. Having left, Rasputin did not return home.8

  Popel set off for Morskaya Street. There he interviewed Efimov, the policeman who had been on sentry duty outside the Ministry of the Interior, across the canal from the Yusupov Palace at 94 Moika and its adjoining house, number 92, on the night of the disappearance.

  I was on my post at Morskaya Street building number 61. At 2.30a.m. I heard a gunshot and 3 to 5 seconds later three more shots followed fast one after another. The sound of gunshots came from Moika Street in the region of building number 92. The first gunshot was followed by a low scream as if it was a woman’s; there was no noise. In 20 to 30 minutes after the shot no car or carriage went along Moika Street. Only half an hour later a car drove along Moika from the Blue Bridge towards Potselyev. It did not stop anywhere. I reported the shots by telephone to the 3rd Kazan Police Station and went towards the place of shooting.9